


What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

by MapleleafCameo



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Caterer Eric Bittle, First Meeting, First Time, Jack's a Little Lonely, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, PWP, Professor Jack Zimmermann, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 03:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21421363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: Jack really didn't want to come to Shitty's New Year's Party.But there you are.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight
Comments: 30
Kudos: 227





	What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as basic party meetup but turned into New Year's Eve party meetup because there's so much snow on my house.
> 
> The idea came about listening to Broken by lovelytheband. And then I looked up songs about loneliness and got So Lonely by the Police and of course, Lonely and Scared by Beyonce. Because Beyonce.
> 
> And then you can’t have New Year's without What Are You Doing New Year's Eve by Ella Fitzgerald. 
> 
> So there you go.

Jack slouched against the wall and frowned into his beer glass. The drink in his hand, in all its lukewarm amber grossness, glared back. It had been fresh, once. Maybe he shouldn't drink anymore.

Sighing, he looked around Shitty's loft apartment, Christmas lights twinkling on the tree in the corner, jazz softly playing from the speakers under the buzz of a multitude of conversations. He wondered why he'd agreed to come. Well, actually, he knew why.

The reason why waved his arms in the air, busy pontificating on some egalitarian argument with a small group of fellow lawyers, his beer bottle coming close to braining the woman standing beside him. She stepped back, the look on her face warring between laughter and annoyance.

He promised Shits he'd come and be sociable. Shitty told him it would make them both happy. Jack highly doubted it. Being happy these days didn't seem to be an option.

The problem, Jack mused, wasn't just happiness, although he lacked joy when it came to relationships.

Loneliness was the big picture.

There he said it.

In his head, but still.

He didn't know how to push away from the wall. Or how to engage and try to make friends with any of the people here. He watched all evening, in muted envy, as Shitty joked and hugged and socialized with every person. It felt like personal defeat. Sadness and exhaustion ate up his energy. How to take that first step and be anything other than an awkward, social robot.

And fuck didn't it also make it hard to get laid.

He decided to give it another twenty minutes and then go. He'd have fulfilled his promise to Shitty and then some. He didn't want to welcome in the New Year when he had no one to share it with. He'd go home, maybe read, watch a documentary, slowly crumble into a caricature of a lonely professor. Fortunately, his apartment was in the same building, and he didn't have to navigate the streets while dredging through self-pity and snow.

"You look lonely." A soft drawl, an accent south of Brooklyn.

A man, shorter, blonder, and a whole lot cuter than he stood by his elbow.

He shrugged. And for some reason, a whim, a nudge, fate perhaps, he chose to sing his response, softly, higher than his usual range, a wee bit slower than the original, definitely without accompanying drums. "‘_Just can't convince myself, I couldn't live with no one else and can only play that part and sit and nurse my broken heart_'."

A pleasant laugh with a quirk at the corner of his mouth. "Damn, son, you have a nice voice. Not familiar with that song."

"The Police_. So Lonely_." He could have given the album title and year of release, but that seemed a tad much.

"Oh. Dad music," said with a smirk.

"Dad music? Excuse you!" He placed his hand over his heart and spoke in mock hurt. "The Police are one of the greatest bands of all time."

The man sang in reply, “’_I'm scared of lonely, and I'm scared of being the only shadow I see along the wall, and I'm scared the only heartbeat I hear beating is my own, and I'm scared of being alone_.'"

Jack raised an eyebrow. Those lyrics nicely summed up his current existence.

"Please do not tell me you haven't heard that one?"

Jack shook his head.

"Queen Bee? Beyoncé. The greatest singer ever to grace this mortal plane."

"Forgive my ignorance?"

"I'll think about it." He took a sip of wine, shook his head, and then held out his hand. "Excuse my manners. Eric, Eric Bittle."

"I'm Jack. Jack Zimmermann."

They shook hands. Jack reluctantly let go. Odd. His hand felt slightly more bereft than his soul.

"So Jack Zimmermann, why are you holed up against the wall next to the restroom? Any particular reason? Avoiding the endless discussion of law and politics?" He gestured toward Shitty's group. "Or sports, perhaps?" He gestures in the other direction towards where a couple was, perhaps, getting a little too heated, judging by the red faces. "Or perhaps over there," he pointed to four people who were loudly proclaiming their love for some television show or perhaps a movie. He looked back at Jack, an incredibly warm and inviting smile on his face. "I'm sincerely hoping it's not because of the food."

Jack remembered eating a great many savoury tartlets, some sort of spicy chicken, and a slice of sublime berry pie and being suitably impressed. "No, not the food. The food was excellent. The piece of pie I had? I could kiss the person who made that."

"High praise. Thank you. And, hmmm, a kiss, wow." Eric looked down at the floor, biting his lip. "Well."

"You made it?"

"Yes. I own a catering company slash bakery. Shitty asked me to whip something up, and since we're friends, I get to enjoy flirting with the guests." His smile widened as he winked.

They were silent for a moment. Jack wondered if he had the nerve to say anything or something. He didn't often converse with perfect strangers. His confidence, always low, whispered to him about fools, hopes, and dreams. Eric couldn't mean any of it. Obviously, he was being polite.

Eric drank the last of his wine. "And may I ask how you know our host?"

"College. We were roommates. He's my best friend."

"Ah." He looked down at his glass and frowned, but not the way Jack had frowned at the swill in his. Rather, as if he were deciding if he wanted another. Then he looked back up at Jack, his eyes twinkled, and he smiled. That smile hurt a little, somewhere in Jack's chest. "I met Shitty at the gym. We rather hit it off, and I introduced him to Lardo. She used to be my roommate." He waved at the young woman standing with the group waxing poetic about television. Or was it a movie?

"I like Lardo. She's good for Shits. I didn't realize that was you."

"She is. She's been a good friend to me as well. It's good to have good friends."

Jack nodded, slowly, but with the dose of melancholy in his head, he didn't quite feel what Eric said until he looked straight into his incredibly kind, incredibly beautiful, brown eyes. Eric began to raise his free hand as if to touch Jack. A thrill of something dormant and long-missed swirled in the pit of his stomach. Someone must have upended a jar of butterflies, and they were playing tag. But then Eric changed his mind, and he lowered his hand.

Jack really wished he'd raise it again.

They stared at each other for another awkward moment and then polite, kind Eric said, "And what do you do, Jack?"

"I teach history."

"Impressive. I enjoy history, but sadly I'm not very good at remembering dates and names. Maybe sometime you could teach me?"

Was this flirting? He said he'd come to flirt.

"Uh..."

Eric blushed. "Sorry. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"Uh, no, not that, I'm very, euh, comfortable." And surprisingly, he was.

Maybe Eric's bravery or sociability somehow seeped into his marrow and now held him up better than the wall. "I just, sometimes, I have trouble getting out the words."

"Rather tricky for a history professor."

"Haha, yeah, well, see, I have notes in class. I don't have notes for this conversation."

This time Eric did touch, Jack. He patted him on the chest. The heat from Eric's hand scalded him. Jack felt pretty sure if he unbuttoned his shirt, there'd be a permanent mark, like a burn. He really wanted to unbutton his shirt.

"There you go! You're cute, you know." Eric blushed more, but he also bit his lip again and a sudden urge to lean forward and help bite that lip surged through Jack. That plump, lush lip, a mouth designed to be kissed and bit.

Eric's eyes tracked the placement of Jack's eyes, which couldn't seem to pull away from those lips. And then he leaned in. "May I say something that is completely forward and only comes out of my mouth because this was a most excellent glass of wine." He waggled the now empty wine glass.

"Sure? I guess."

"First of all, you have the most amazing blue eyes. I swear you're part wolf, all icy blue and droopy. Sad, but thoughtful. I could get lost for several days in your eyes." He paused, flushed some more, and then carried on. "Secondly, I think I like you. And as the song says, I think you're really lonely and perhaps a tad broken." He took a deep breath, and the tailored shirt he wore tightened, promising his chest would be well muscled. "I mean, I'm a bit broken and lonely, and I'd like to think you might be, too. We could be broken together."

Jack swallowed. His eyes flicked of their own accord up and down Eric. It made his mouth dry.

A lull in the conversation and the placement of the speakers and Ella Fitzgerald's voice came through.

_'Maybe it's much too early in the game. Ah, but I thought I'd ask you just the same. What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?' _

It was fate.

He never did this.

"Well?" He nodded his head in the direction of the music.

Eric's smile deepened, and he stood up on his toes and brushed a kiss on Jack's cheek. "I guess that depends on what you had in mind."

Next step. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Jack never said this. Never. "My place is two floors down."

Eric bit his lip again. Very distracting. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Jack took their glasses, found an empty spot on a small side table, and set them there. He took Eric's hand in his, and they walked to the door. Before they left, he stopped for a minute to whisper in Shitty's ear. Shitty grinned, smacked him hard on the butt, winked at Eric, and said, in a slightly too loud voice, "you beautiful motherfucker! Get soooome!"

Just like that.

Not entirely as if they were in a movie but almost.

They stood close together, fingers entwined while they waited for the elevator. They stood close together, legs against each other's, as they rode it down, the only thing between them their clothes. With a ding, the doors opened onto Jack's floor, and he led the way, still holding Eric's hand. He fumbled for his key and barely managed to get it into the lock. His nerves were humming, and his skin felt fevered. He dragged Eric in from the hall.

After the door shut, he spun him around. "Is this okay? Are you okay with this? It's just. It's just I never do this."

At the same time, Eric said, "I never do this, but I can't seem to help myself. Are you okay with this?"

They both laughed, and Jack, holding the top of Eric's arms, closed his eyes and leaned in, placed his forehead against Eric's, and simply breathed, trying to steady himself. He opened his eyes and looked into Eric's. "I don't do this."

"Me, either."

And Jack kissed him.

Warmth and sweetness, simple need and definitely lust, swirled through him, and in an instant, he fell, fell far and long into something more transcendent than anything he'd ever experienced.

Eric kissed back with skill and care. So much thought went into his kiss. Overthinking was something Jack held in his soul, almost with pleasure, but how can a kiss be overthought when it is perfect.

Jack moved his hands down Eric's arms and then moved them behind and clasped him hard, his hands splayed on his back, trying to touch all of him with his body. Eric melted in response. He raised his hands, found the buttons on Jack's shirt and began to undo them one by one before slipping his hands under the shirt and moved them up and down the broad expanse of bare back. Jack shivered. He'd never wanted someone so much. He tried to take it slow, savour it, so he could remember each brush of skin, each gasp, each kiss, and sigh. He wanted to go fast and hard and spend himself right here in the hall, in front of his door so that every time he entered, he would relive this moment. He wanted it all.

He wanted.

And the depth of his want surprised him. He'd known Eric all of perhaps forty minutes, and he yearned and ached, ached so badly, with desire.

He broke the kiss and said, "Come with me."

Through the living room, he led them, leaving the lights off. The blinds were open to the city glow to help them to find their way to the bedroom. He opened the door and pulled Eric with him, fumbling for the switch. The room brightened. Eric's mouth, plush, already looked loved on.

He raised a hand and trailed it on his cheek. "Let me love you." Eric's mouth parted, and he nodded.

Jack slowly, so very slowly, with more patience than he thought possible, undressed him and carefully placed each item on the back of the chair, but never took his eyes off of Eric.

He was beautiful, golden, and warm. His body toned and muscular. He placed his hand on Eric's chest, and Eric's stomach contracted, and he gasped. Jack fell to his knees, and kissed him on the hard planes of his abdomen, kissed each nipple, painted him with his tongue, swirled into his belly button, and kissed his hips. His fingers gripped the pert buttocks. He looked up, and Eric looked back at him, already wrecked, his eyes glittering brightly with tears.

"Are you okay?" Jack whispered.

"I am so, so okay," And with one hand on Jack's chin, he leaned down and kissed him again, deeply, tongue tracing his lips and flicking in and out, then plunging in to quench. Jack pulled him close, feeling his cock flex against his chest.

Eric said, "You, sir, have on far too many clothes."

"Yes, I do, but I'm not finished quite yet." He leaned over and opened the night table drawer and pulled out a condom. He sat back on his heels. He held out the condom, and Eric nodded. With care, Jack took it out of its packet and rolled it onto Eric.

"Oh, dear god. Oh fuck," Eric whispered.

Jack place one hand upon the round, firm ass, and with his other grasped the flush, full cock around the base. Continuing to look up at Eric, he slid it into his mouth, and slowly drew it back, in and out, working it. He used to be very good at this. He must still have some skill because Eric's fingers tugged and pulled in his hair in desperation. He pushed against the slim back, pushed so he had no choice but to take him as deep as he could.

Eric gasped again, shook, and clung to Jack's head. He said, "we can keep going, but I am not gonna last. Dear sweet Jesus, your mouth is sinful." Jack pulled off, panting. Eric traced Jack's swollen mouth with his thumb. He turned his head to chase the thumb and drew it into his mouth, sucking on it. Then, without warning, he stood, scooped Eric, threw him onto the bed. He never undressed so fast on his life. Eric watched and chuckled a little but not in a mean way. Much more in an anticipatory way. Jack scrambled up onto the bed.

He leaned on his arms, lying stretched out over top, holding himself above. "Hi," he breathed.

"Hi, yourself."

He kissed him again and thrust forward so that his heavy, aching cock rubbed against the hard plains of the warm stomach.

Eric thrust up to meet him, and then there was aching and need, and heat and bliss chased each other receding and clinging until with a shout Jack came and Eric followed.

Jack rolled off with a groan and gathered his very scattered wits enough to stagger to the bathroom and return with a face cloth. He wiped them both down and tossed the cloth to the floor. Eric pulled off the condom and carefully placed it in the waste paper basket beside the bed. He then lay back with his eyes closed. Jack lay down by his side, and Eric curled into him, his arm and leg thrown over. Jack pulled him as close as possible, kissed the top of his head, and they slid onto slumber.

Bright morning light woke Jack. The space beside him was empty but warm, and he heard the flush of the toilet coming from the bathroom. Eric, naked and gorgeous, came out of the bathroom, stretching and smiling drowsily at Jack. He climbed back into bed and laid his head on Jack's chest.

"Morning, darling."

"You sleep, okay?"

"Best night ever."

Jack could feel the long lashes flutter against his chest. He could feel his heart thump, and he thought this _was_ the best he'd felt in forever.

Eric sat up a little and stared at him.

"What?" Jack said.

"I want to make you breakfast."

Jack blinked and laughed softly. "Okay, but first." And he flipped Eric onto his back. "I want to do this." And he kissed him. He rummaged in the drawer again and pulled out a fresh condom. He put it on him, and Eric said. "How the hell do you make that the sexiest thing I've ever done?"

Jack just smiled and proceeded to wake up Eric properly.

Eric borrowed a pair of boxers and a tee from Jack. He said they must look ridiculous, and Jack said no, they definitely did not.

They went out to the kitchen. Jack made coffee, and Eric became acquainted with the kitchen. In a while, there were omelets and lightly fried apple slices, sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. The toast popped up, and coffee poured. Eric sat as close to Jack as he could.

After, they washed the dishes, smiling. Who smiles washing dishes. 

Eric leaned back against the counter and said, "I really should get dressed and go up to Shitty's and collect my stuff. I was going to help them tidy up. I feel like a bad guest."

"I can help, but I'd like to ask you a question."

Eric smiled, "okay."

"Maybe it's much too early in the game, but would you go out with me? I'd really like to get to know you."

Eric laughed, clear and bright, warm on a winter day. Jack could have slipped into doubt, but then Eric came and wrapped his arms around Jack, his arms held him tight.

"Yes, Jack. I'd love to go out with you."


End file.
